


Things You Said

by mouth_breather011



Series: Time Forever Frozen Still [Irondad & Spiderson Oneshots] [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Cute Peter Parker, Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), Hostage Situations, Hurt Peter Parker, Injured Peter Parker, Needles, No Sex, No Smut, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Sad Peter Parker, Scared Peter Parker, Separation Anxiety, Sleepy Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Cuddles, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22021465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mouth_breather011/pseuds/mouth_breather011
Summary: A collection of stories based off of what Peter and Tony said to each other. Most of them have no correlation, I'll let you assume which ones are related.~Featuring lots of preciousness, fluff, sadness, protectiveness, and the Sony/Disney disagreement (even tho mah boi Tom fixed the situation, *hApPiNeSs*)
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Time Forever Frozen Still [Irondad & Spiderson Oneshots] [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559569
Comments: 4
Kudos: 89





	Things You Said

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this one was difficult. It's really long, though, so yay! I ended up getting a bit of writer's block after pretty much every story, so I spent like 2 weeks writing this when it usually takes like a day or 2. Oh well. Merry Christmas and enjoy!
> 
> P.s. I apologize for the formatting, it's not at what I want it to be. I write on a computer then transfer the work to my phone, which means I cant use italics and bold, and it aGgRaVaTeS mE. Idk, there's probably some way I could get it to transfer correctly, I'm just dumb.

Things you said when you were away . . .

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back in five days, bud.”

Peter sniffled loudly, wiping his nose with his sweater-covered hand. The phone was sweaty in his palm, the sticky feeling of the screen unsettling against his ear.

Peter was sitting in Tony’s vacant bed, curled under the covers with the hood of the billionaire’s favorite MIT hoodie pulled over his soft brown hair. Tears fled down his cheeks, darkening the fabric of the sleeves.

So . . . maybe Peter had a bit of separation anxiety.

“I know,” he whined into the phone. “I j-just wish you could c-come home sooner. I m-miss you.”

He knew he was being a brat, but Peter couldn’t stand the loneliness. It didn’t matter that Rhodey was in the living room, waiting for his cartoon-buddy to join him, or that Pepper was in the kitchen preparing dinner, or that Happy was on his way up in the elevator with surprise ice cream for after dinner.

Peter missed Tony.

He missed May.

(but he knew she wouldn’t be back. he only had Tony now)

“I’m so sorry, Petey, I miss you too,” Tony said, his voice automatically soothing the hurting boy. “I want to come back and see you so bad, and just wrap you up and cuddle you forever.”

Peter giggled softly. He wanted that, too.

“I’m holding you to that,” he whispered, and Tony chuckled on the other end. Peter sniffed again, desperately trying to calm his tears. “Love you, Tony.”

“You can count on me. Love you too, Underoos.”

Things you said when I was away . . .

Tony sat down harshly, the old wooden chair creaking and screeching on the kitchen floor. He stared down at the picture in his hand, resting his head in the other.

A picture that was taken lovingly. They had spent all day together, going out for ice cream and walking around the park. Peter was staying the night, so they didn’t get home until late. Pepper offered the idea that they take a picture, capture the moment.

It was Tony’s idea to add the internship document. Peter was ecstatic.

They had ended up taking multiple photos, some serious, most silly. This one had been their favorite.

Both of them held their hands up behind the other’s head, giving them bunny ears. Peter had a gaping grin, Tony had allowed himself a small smirk.

He missed him.

“Oh kid . . . what am I gonna do?”

Things you said when I was hurt . . . 

“What in the world were you thinking?” Tony screeched, running along side of the gurney being raced through the medbay doors.

Peter thought it was all a little over exaggerated, but with Tony Stark, that’s just how things are.

“Well, I was thinking that there was a wall—”

Tony groaned. “You know what I meant.”

Peter sighed, turning his head to the quickly passing ceiling. They turned a corner, and he jerked to his left. Tony nearly fell, then regained his footing.

“I was just trying to help you out, how was I supposed to know there was a building there?” 

He winced in pain as the gurney came to a stop, rustling his probably broken arm and leg. The nurses bustled around them, trying to cut in front of the billionaire, who shoved his way between them, ignoring the complaints.

“And I told you that I had it covered! You can’t just jump at every fight like some deranged monkey”—Peter giggled—”You’ll end up hurt, one way or another.”

A nurse grabbed the boy’s left arm, extending it painfully. Peter gritted his teeth, arching his back as he tried to relieve the pain.

“Hey hey hey, be careful,” Tony scolded, sending the nurse a death-glare. She immediately set his arm back down, walking away and muttering nonsense under her breath.

“Hay is for horses, Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered, chuckling drowsily at his own joke. Tony glanced down at him, smiling briefly. He brushed some of his sweaty curls out of his face.

“You should sleep, Underoos,” Tony whispered back, continuing to play with the boy’s hair. Peter nodded lethargically, his eyes slipping shut. The prick of a needle in his forearm went unnoticed. A flush of sweet relief filled his body as the pain-killers flooded his system.

“Mr. Stark,” he muttered. Said man leaned down, listening closely. “Walls should be illegal. They hurt.”

Mr. Stark chuckled, leaning back.

“For you, I’d make all walls illegal.”

Things you said when I was scared . . .

“Pete—no, just hold still! It’ll only—goshdangit—it won’t hurt!”

Peter ignored Mr. Stark, continuing to squirm as much as his sick body would let him. It didn’t matter that every movement sent pinpricks chilling up his spine. He was more concerned about the frighteningly large needle nearing his weakening body.

Dr. Banner stood above him, reaching worriedly for one of the boy’s flailing arms with one hand, the other holding that ghastly needle. Tony was on Peter’s left, struggling to keep his shoulders restrained while yelling at him to sit still.

“Please, don’t—gah! No, stop stop stop!” Peter screamed, jerking away as Tony managed to still his left arm, tugging it across his body and closer to Dr. Banner. 

“You’ll only make it worse,” Bruce pleaded, trying to calm the crying child. “If you’re tense, then the needle will make you sore. Please, try to be relaxed.”

Peter sobbed, giving another harsh shake, though it was weaker than before. Mr. Stark was practically laying on top of him, breathing heavily as he held the boy’s arm out.

“Just do as he says,” the man gasped. “Make it easier for all of us.”

Eventually, Peter relented, still sobbing and gasping as the needle neared his arm. Tony leaned over, resting his cheek against Peter’s in a feeble attempt to comfort him.

“Don’t look at it, focus on something else,” he whispered, still grasping the boy’s arm. “Tell me about your latest patrol. I want to hear all about it.”

Bruce paused, cold hand gripping Peter’s wrist. He waited for him to answer.

Peter swallowed, looking up at the ceiling. “Um, I-I . . . I helped a l-little girl. S-she was l-lost, and—nrggh!”

He gritted his teeth and yelled, glancing at the needle stuck in his forearm. The sight made him nauseous. Mr. Stark slapped his cheek lightly.

“No, eyes on me, Pete,” he comforted, sitting up and finally releasing his arm. He grabbed Peter’s face, forcing his watery eyes on him. Dr. Banner pulled the needle out. 

“It’s done, you’re good! You’re so brave, I’m so proud of you,” Tony smiled, wiping the boy’s tears away as he continued to cry. The man gently sat him up, wrapping him in a hug as Bruce placed a bandaid on his inner forearm. 

“It’s all over, shh. You’re fine,” Tony comforted, carding his hands through soft brown curls. Peter buried his face in the man’s neck, wrapping his fingers in the back of Tony’s shirt. He continued to shake and cry, Mr. Stark rubbing his back and whispering small assurances.

When Peter was finally calm, he continued to relax in the embrace, enjoying the warmth that his mentor provided. He was now seated in Tony’s lap, feverish head resting against the man’s chest.

“Th-thanks Mr. Stark,” he whispered, rubbing Tony’s shirt between his fingers. He could feel him smile into his hair.

“Every time, kid.”

Things you said when I felt alone . . .

A car drove by, showering Peter with dirty rainwater. It mingled with the rain already dripping down his drenched form.

He had no idea how long he’d been running, nor did he know where he was trying to go. All he knew was that he needed to leave. Needed to get away from the overwhelming terror and utter hopelessness.

May is gone.

It was in that moment that Peter broke.

He fell to his knees with a sob, burying his face in his hands. Peter continued to cry on the wet, dirty sidewalk, the rain pounding on his back and head. It irritated his senses, but the pain was nothing in comparison to the loss of his aunt.

Countless cars passed. Not one of them stopped. It was late, no one seemed to care about anything other than getting home to their loved ones. No one cared about the family-less kid crying on the side of the road.

It must have been hours. The rain never let up.

The whoosh of a car pulling to a stop. The door opening and slamming shut. Hurried footsteps. Someone yelling.

“Peter!”

Gentle, calloused hands around his wrists, pulling his hands from his face. Peter continued to stare at his knees that were digging into the sidewalk. 

“Peter, I’m so sorry,” Mr. Stark whispered, his voice barely heard over the pounding of the rain. Peter wanted to reply, to say that it was fine. But it wasn’t.

All was lost when the important people disappeared.

Strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him into Mr. Stark’s chest. Peter could smell motor oil and coffee, familiar and calming. He started to cry harder.

Peter felt bad that he’d made Mr. Stark sit with him on that cold, wet sidewalk in the middle of a thunderstorm. He wanted to tell the man to leave, go home and not worry about him. Lie and say that he was okay.

But he wasn’t.

And Tony stayed. He was patient, compassionate, comforting. Just his presence lightened the guilt and grief weighing Peter down. He helped share the burden.

“Peter, let me take you home,” Tony said into Peter’s ear. 

Home.

Tony was offering him a place to stay.

The boy nodded, rubbing his face with his hands. Mr. Stark helped him to his feet, leading him to the car parked illegally on the side of the road. Happy hopped out of the driver’s side, tugging the backseat door open. 

Tony slipped inside first, pulling his kid in after him. He wrapped his arms around the boy, pulling him into his side. Peter relaxed into the hold, both of them not bothering to put on seat belts.

They were soaked to the bone, shivering and shaking, but they clutched each other like lifelines. Peter was no longer crying, but he was mentally exhausted. Tony seemed to understand, letting him rest in his lap while carding his fingers through Peter’s wet curls.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered. “What am I gonna do now?”

Tony sighed. He squeezed his kid tighter.

“You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll take care of you.” 

Things you said to protect me . . .

The hand in his hair twisted painfully, tugging Peter upright as his captor pulled him down the front steps of Midtown Tech. The ache of a gun barrel traveled down his spine.

Peter’s senses were immediately bombarded with screams and flashes, people pushing and shoving against the barriers and officers surrounding the school. News vehicles crowded the outer layer of people, cameras flashing and newscasters reporting. It was all too overwhelming.

“Where is Tony Stark?” the man holding him bellowed, coming to a stop. Peter winced, still grabbing at the hands laced through his curls. A man shoved his way to the front of the crowd, clad in a dark suit and sunglasses, which he quickly disposed of. After an enraged warning, the officers parted to let him through. 

Tony Stark stood just twenty feet away, and Peter couldn’t run to meet him.

“Let the kid go,” the billionaire yelled, unable to control his emotions. Fear was evident in his form. “Your fight is with me.”

The man behind Peter chuckled, warm breath tickling his neck. The boy cringed as his hair was pulled taught, now on his toes as he tried to relieve the pressure. Tony surged forward in anger, until the gun was aimed for Peter’s head. The crowd gasped, sparking another flare of cameras and conversation.

“Yes, my fight is with you. But if it takes killing a little brat to get your attention, I won’t hesitate to oblige,” the man grinned. “He’s a cute kid, I see why you like him.”

Peter’s captor released his hair, instead grabbing the boy’s forehead and shoving his head into his shoulder. Peter sobbed, and Tony gritted his teeth.

A shrill scream sounded from the vast expanse of people, and Peter could see his aunt fighting to the front, straining against the officers blocking her way.

“That’s my nephew!” May cried, reaching for him desperately. Peter wanted to reach out too, but the invading arms wrapped around him warned him not to. The boy sobbed again, disgusted by the hand that was brushing through his hair, just like Mr. Stark would during their movie nights when he thought Peter was asleep.

“Please, he has a family,” Tony pleaded, visibly quivering with fear and anger. “Just let him go and we can talk, or fight, or whatever your goal is right now. Just leave the kid out of this.”

“Tony,” Peter whimpered, attempting to jerk out of the creep’s grasp. The man quickly tugged him back to his side, trailing the gun down his cheek mockingly. Peter flinched, eyeing it warily. Tony took another step forward.

“Aww, poor boy wants Iron Man to come save him,” he crowed, shaking Peter roughly. He let out a small squeak, struggling to stay balanced.

It was all too much. The flashes, his aunt screaming, people talking, his captor gripping him tightly, the Iron Man armor nearing—

Peter gasped, gaze landing on Mr. Stark as the man smirked slightly. The armor landed behind him, seemingly out of nowhere, and he stepped into it quickly. Peter’s senses screamed at him, and he forced his knees to the ground. He flinched at the scream of Tony’s replusers searing the man to a crisp.

“Don’t touch my kid,” Tony snarled.

Peter lay curled on the ground, panting and sobbing harshly. When a metal hand clasped his shoulder, he immediately jumped into Tony’s arms. 

“Hold on,” Mr. Stark whispered, and the billionaire wrapped his arms around his protege, standing rapidly. Before any of the reporters could swarm them, he leapt into the air and blasted away.

Even with the whipping wind in his ears, Peter could hear Tony speak to FRIDAY.

“Tell May Parker to meet us at the Compound. Happy will pick her up,” he said, and the AI complied. Peter curled tighter around the armor, not caring if he accidentally dented it. “And prep the medbay, I want to make sure my kid is okay.”

“I’m fine, Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered, not sure if the man could hear him.

Tony sighed.

“No, you’re not fine, but don’t worry. I’ll fix it.”

Things we said when we were happy . . .

“You’re weird, Mr. Stark.”

Tony scoffed. 

“And what about you, overachiever? Mint chocolate chip? That’s definitely weirder than vanilla, if you ask me.”

Peter gasped mockingly, clutching his heart with both hands. “You’ve wounded me, Mr. Stark,” he complained. 

“Me? Never. I love you too much, kid,” Tony said, slipping a heaping spoonful of vanilla ice cream into his mouth. He pretended not to notice Peter dumbstruck expression. The boy shook his head, and continued to eat his ice cream as well.

It wasn’t until later that night when Peter replied.

After their Disney movie marathon, Mr. Stark was leading him up to bed. 

“I love you too, Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered, closing his bedroom door. Tony grinned.

He would later deny skipping down the hall to his own room, but FRIDAY’s surveillance cameras claimed otherwise.

Things you didn’t mean to say . . .

The silence in the car was deafening.

Peter almost wanted to say something, if only to break the silence. But he didn’t want to risk crying in front of the Tony Stark.

Tony was driving, which Peter was somewhat thankful for, meaning he wouldn’t be forced to converse or look the man in the eyes. Still, having Happy there would have eased the tension.

Peter glanced at the brown paper bag in the passenger’s seat, then at his pink Hello-Kitty pajama pants and ’I Survived My Trip To NYC’ t-shirt. Bad idea. He couldn’t help the flow of tears this time. He just prayed that Mr. Stark didn’t notice.

“Kid, are you crying?” Tony asked, glancing in the rearview mirror. Peter quickly wiped his eyes, but to no avail.

“N-no,” he whispered, turning his head down to look out the window. He saw Mr. Stark’s worried expression in his peripherals. The man sighed, gaze returning to the road.

They drove for a little while longer, then came to a stop outside Peter’s apartment building. Neither of them moved.

“Um, Mr. S-stark, I j-just—I just w-wanted to say that I-I’m sorry for—for l-letting you down and, y’know, kinda f-failing at the whole . . superhero . . . thing,” Peter gasped, trying desperately not to let his voice hitch. He pawed at his face, wishing the tears would just go away. There was no point in trying to win the sympathy of a man he’d already failed.

“Peter, I just—” Mr. Stark started, not being able to find the right words.

“I-it’s okay, Mr. Stark. I n-never deserved the suit in th-the first place,” he whispered, attempting and failing at a small smile. “Thanks. F-for everything y-you’ve done for me. I had the t-time of my l-life.”

He opened the car door, hopping out before waiting for a reply. Peter didn’t think he’d be able to handle anymore criticism from his idol.

He stood and watched, still wiping away tears as Tony glanced at him. The man lingered briefly, then drove away.

Peter broke.

Things you never got to say . . . 

Watching the kid crying on the sidewalk, Tony wanted so bad to comfort him, to tell Peter that he could have his suit back, and everything that he ever wanted. Still, Tony told himself that the boy deserved it. He’d messed up big-time.

(but had he, though? maybe Tony was the one who’d messed up—)

Tony had made the kid cry.

Maybe he was just like his dad.

He pulled into the parking lot to Stark Industries, but the billionaire stayed in is car, resting his head against the steering wheel. 

He’d made Peter Parker cry.

Precious, sweet, kind, selfless, lovable Peter Parker.

God, he was such a jerk.

Tony stayed there for hours, wallowing in self hatred, crushed under the feeling that he’d broken his number one fan’s heart.

“You’re not a failure, Pete. You’re the best darn superhero I’ve ever met.”

Things you said while I was asleep . . .

Tony watched the light of the TV brighten Peter’s sleeping face, creating shadows and giving the boy a pale complexion. Peter breathed quietly, chest rising and falling softly. He was curled up in a tight ball, head resting in Tony’s lap as the man stroked his hair subconsciously. 

This was probably Tony’s favorite part about movie nights. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the kid’s company, but Tony loved seeing him so peaceful and still, when Peter would finally let down his guard.

Tony was broken out of his thoughts when Peter snuffled. Like an infant child, he snuffled. 

And Tony just melted.

He covered his mouth with one hand as he smiled at the sleeping boy, attempting to muffle his surprised laugh. Peter stirred, shifting closer to Tony in his sleep. The billionaire lifted him gently, pulling him deeper into an embrace. The boy automatically adjusted to the new position, wrapping his arms around Tony’s middle. 

Tony pressed a tender kiss into the boy’s temple.

“I love you, Pete. So, so much.”

He smiled as Peter nuzzled his face into Tony’s neck, snuffling again. Tony fixed his attention back onto the screen.

How lucky was he to have such a wonderful child.

Things I wish you hadn’t said . . . 

Peter made his way into the lab slowly and cautiously. FRIDAY had already warned him to go home, but he knew that he should at least try to help.

Tony was at his workspace, head resting in his hands as he slouched in his chair. There were multiple bottles of alcohol surrounding him, some empty and some full.

Peter cleared his throat, making himself known.

“I thought FRIDAY told you to go home, kid,” Tony mumbled with a gravelly voice, not even bothering to look up at the boy. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I-I just thought you might, y’know, want some company, maybe,” he whispered, eyes wide and slightly fearful. Having dealt with angry drunks as Spider-Man, he didn’t want to somehow upset Tony in his current state. Maybe if he wasn’t just plain old Peter Parker, he would have been able to handle it, but now Peter wasn’t so sure he should have stayed.

Mr. Stark just nodded his head clumsily, rubbing his face with his hands. His gaze remained fixed on some random spot on the wall, head up in the clouds.

“What, not even a ‘hello?’” Peter asked teasingly, trying to establish some of their usual banter. He walked forward and rested a hand on the man’s shoulder, but Tony was quick to shrug it off, facing the boy with anger in his eyes.

“Can’t you just leave me alone? You never listen! I don’t want you here, is that so difficult to understand!” Tony yelled, rising to his feet and towering over the boy. Peter stumbled back a step, hands held up defensively. “No, I don’t want to listen to your incessant rambling, I don’t want you using my workshop, I don’t want anything to do with you! Especially not today.”

Peter’s back hit the wall, and he gripped it with his hands at his side. The boy pushed his head back as Mr. Stark leaned so far forward that Peter could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Get out,” Tony muttered darkly, and Peter looked away, attempting to hide the wetness in his eyes.

“Okay, Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered quietly. The billionaire turned away with a grimace, stumbling back to his seat and resuming the same position he’d been in previously. Peter let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and made his way to the door. 

Mr. Stark said nothing as the boy left, continuing to wallow in drunken self pity and loathing. He didn’t seem to care about Peter, who was sitting in the hall with silent tears streaming down his face.

It was one thing to know you weren’t wanted. It was an entirely different thing to hear it from someone else.

Especially someone who you thought loved you back.

Things you said about me . . .

“I can’t believe this. This isn’t happening—ugh—this is just some horrible, sick, twisted nightmare,” Steve said, pacing around the couch in the common area. “Please tell me that fifteen year old kid out in the hall is not who I think he is.”

Peter heard Tony sigh in defeat, picturing him running a weary hand through his hair.

“Um, yeah. He . . . he is,” Tony said almost inaudibly. Peter crouched closer to the edge of the wall, face falling into a deeper frown. “He’s the Spiderkid from Germany.”

Wow, way to keep my identity a secret, Peter thought half-heartedly, only slightly mad. At this point, he didn’t really care if Captain America knew who he was. And he trusted Tony, so if he felt the need to out Peter’s identity, he would learn to adjust.

“No no no no no, I dropped a freaking jet bridge on an infant,” Steve groaned. Peter heard him sit down heavily, the couch creaking under the supersoldier’s weight.

“You what?” Mr. Stark asked, voice pitching dramatically. “Are you telling me that you nearly killed my kid? What the heck, Rogers?!?” Peter peered around the corner, seeing Tony’s back as he stared down at Cap. His arms were flailing about as he scolded, freaking out about the new information.

“Well I wasn’t the one who brought a child to war!”

“It wasn’t supposed to be a war! We were there to bring you in, not nearly kill innocent kids,” Tony argued exasperatedly. “It was supposed to be quick and easy, a simple mission that would have gone perfectly fine if you hadn’t been so insistent that there was no other choice! I just wanted to keep the Avengers together, but you went and ruined that by lying and placing your trust in the wrong people! We were a family, families fix things together. There were other ways to protect your friend.”

Both men were quiet, Tony breathing hard and Rogers staring silently.

“You ruined everything,” Mr. Stark whispered. “Sure, Peter’s just a kid. But he is so strong, and so smart, and so kind. I never intended to put him in harm’s way. You did that.”

Before Peter could move, Tony rounded the corner. He stopped and glanced at the boy, before bending down to grab his arms and help him to his feet. Mr. Stark led Peter down the hall to the elevator.

“Thanks for defending me, Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered, looking up at him as they walked.

The man squeezed his shoulders gently.

“I meant every word.”

Things you didn’t need to say . . .

Bright red lights flashed along the ceiling, accompanied by the blaring of an alarm and distant banging.

Tony raced down the hall to Peter’s room, slamming open the door and running to his bed. The boy was already awake, struggling to remove the blanket from his casted foot.

“C’mon, we gotta go now,” Tony grimaced, ripping away the blanket and helping Peter to his feet. Peter reached for his crutches that were against the wall, but Tony just continued to tug him out the door. “No time, we need to leave before they find you.”

He lifted Peter into his arms and ran back down the hall. Tony cursed when they reached the elevators, remembering that FRIDAY was down and couldn’t work them. He hoisted Peter up higher and bolted to the emergency stairwell.

“Mr. Stark, what’s going on?” Peter whimpered in his ear. The man readjusted his grip but continued down the steps.

“Sony,” he gasped, and the boy froze.

“No,” he whispered, shaking slightly. “No no no, they can’t! They can’t take me!”

“I know bud,” Tony assured him. “We need to get you away from here.”

The bang of a door opening below them rang down the stairwell, and the sound of multiple armed men running up the steps were heard. Tony groaned and made his way to the door on the next landing. This proved to be a mistake when the two found themselves surrounded.

“Tony Stark, hand over the boy,” Kevin Feige stated clearly from the center of the black-clad men. All of them were armed with stun guns, visibly labeled Sony on every piece of equipment. Peter curled into himself tighter.

Tony’s arms were aching, but he had to force himself to let Peter down. He still had to hold the boy up, due to the fact that his leg was broken, as well as some cracked ribs and a concussion.

“Please, please don’t do this,” Tony said, on the verge of tears. He clutched Peter closer to his chest, feeling him sob softly. “You can’t take him, you can’t.”

Feige looked so miserable as he stared at the two. “I don’t want to do this anymore than you do, but there’s no other choice.”

“No!” Tony screamed as the men came closer, grabbing at Peter. “Stop! You can’t do this! There has to be some other way!” He grasped the boy’s arms as Peter cried and struggled, calling out the man’s name.

“Mr. Stark!”

At last, the soldiers managed to separate them, forcing them further apart. Both of them were a mess, tears streaming down their cheeks as they sobbed for each other brokenly. Feige stood between them, staring at Mr. Stark apologetically.

“We tried our best, but it would never have worked out. I’m so sorry,” he admitted, looking down dejectedly. He turned to the men holding Peter. “Take him to the studio for redesigning.”

Both Tony and Peter screamed ‘No!’ at the same time, and they continued to squirm and struggle. More men gathered to hold Tony down, who was struggling more ferociously than the injured boy being led out of the room.

“Kid! Peter!” he cried, jerking around violently.

“Tony,” Peter sobbed, trying to look over his shoulder. “Tony, don’t let them take me!

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” Feige sighed, still standing in the same place, arms behind his back. 

Tony gritted his teeth and whined, seeing Peter being led away through red eyes.

I’ll find you, kid, he vowed. I don’t know how, but I will. I’ll always find you.

Things I said after you left . . .

Peter felt May’s hands leave his shoulders, pecking a light kiss on his cheek before heading back to the car.

Peter stayed, staring down at the grave.

Tony’s grave.

A drop of rain splattered on his nose, making him blink.

He knelt down, paying no mind to the fact that his jeans were becoming soaked in mud. Peter didn’t feel like he was strong enough to stand on his own anymore.

He stuttered a breath.

“Um, h-hi Tony.I was, uh, in the area, so I asked May if I could come visit you.

“It’s, uh, it’s been rough these last couple months, not gonna lie. I miss you—we all miss you. Terribly. You’ve always been there for us, so its difficult to adapt to you being gone. Y’know, you’ve always been my hero. Not Iron Man, Tony Stark. Tony Stark is my hero. It was never the suit that made you super. Heck, that suit never would’ve happened if it weren’t for you. Most people don’t realize, but it’s the person inside the tin can that really matters.”

The rain was steadily thickening, heavy drops of rain dotting the gravestone. 

“I don’t think I ever told you this, but you saved me. More than once obviously, but like, before we even met when you asked me to come to Germany. You remember the Stark Expo in 2010, right? With the Hammeroids? Sorry, stupid question. Honestly, that night would be kinda hard to forget. Well, I was there that night, and I remember the drones attacking. Now me, being the self-sacrificial idiot that I am, thought I could take one on with my little plastic Iron Man helmet and gauntlets. Before I became burnt toast, hehe, you came in and shot the drone down. You told me ‘Good job, kid,’ then flew off to help. Do you remember that? It was probably one of the best nights of my life. Even though I almost died, yeesh.”

Peter chuckled and looked down at his knees, wiping away the tears and rainwater. It was already downpouring, and he could tell that May was in the car worrying.

“Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to say is that, um, you’ve always been there for me. Since the beginning. You’ve helped me when I was sad, or scared, or just needed a friend to look after me. You are hands-down the highlight of my miserable little life of ups and downs, and I’m really glad that you got to be a part of it. I’m sorry that you’re gone now, and I’m sorry that I never did anything more to help. But I promise to live the rest of my life for you. I’ll be there for your family, like you were there for mine. Thanks for everything.”

With that, Peter stood up, leaving behind the white rose he’d been fingering the whole time. The rain kicked up mud, dirtying the pure petals. Without a second glance, Peter turned and left.

Tony was gone. His hero was gone. His family was gone.

But he had a purpose to fulfill.

He owed that to Tony, to the man that saved his life.

It was time to move on.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback, feedback, feedback. Please.
> 
> Btw, Fiege is the guy that owns Sony right? Eh, cant remember, dont really care, it's all in the past.
> 
> Now some shameless promotions: if you havent read them already, go check out the rest of my stories. I have 9 other works, all of which are irondad and spiderson, so if you liked this, you'll like them! And if you didnt like this, maybe you'll like them better. But tbh, some of them arent really well written bc I was still newer to writing.
> 
> ALSO, please subscribe to my account! Then you'll be notified when I post anything new 😊
> 
> Guys, literally the 'things you said when I was scared' one was pretty much based off of my experiences with needles, I hate them so friggin much


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